Hey, Dad
by Dean'sNerdyAngel
Summary: For Geyl. John Winchester is a hitman, and one job for "Azazel" goes awry. His family threatened, he is forced to throw the hopelessly oblivious Sam and Dean into the underground kick ass world. AU.


**Very much AU, but goes along with facts of the Supernatural storyline. Except they er, don't hunt the paranormal. xD **

John Winchester was a man of few regrets. He did what he had to do and that was the end of it. He makes a mistake, he accepts the consequences. And he certainly never second guessed a high paid job to interrogate a murderer.

Today, however, was going to have John REALLY doubting his instinct. 23 year old Meg Silverman sat bound to a wooden chair, lazily boring her gaze into his turned back. The petite fugitive had committed over 30 murders over the last 5 years, firstly road truckers she hitchhiked from, then dangerously moved up the food chain to killing an enemies loved one, or in a criminal or thug's case, valuable asset, the reason John had been hired by "Azazel". Meg had made the mistake of murdering the crime lords best assassin. That, and she had had hold of a hard drive full of "need to know" information.

"What's wrong Johnny? Little timid to try your tricks with a pretty little girl like me?" Meg's voice held steady with sarcasm.

"No, your pretty much the same as every skeevy rat I've dealt with." Something she'd probably guessed by now. The blonde's pale face was littered with various cuts and bruises. Dark red blood covered a good portion of her face where it had connected with the barrel of John's gun. And though she disguised it well, he knew she was cold, hungry, and in a hell of a lot of pain.

"Very well then," she paused, stalling; figuring out her chances of survival depending on which turn the conversation would take. "Nice place you got here. And the guest room? You must tell me who did your decor."

John rolled his eyes.

The abandoned warehouse had everything a man like him needed. To the passer view, the one room "house" was still isolated and alone, rotting in the woods of Salvation, Iowa. But John had used the hidden storm cellar beneath to store his weapons, keepsake items, and his occasional prisoners. One chair with leather straps for ankles and wrists rested in the middle of the "guest room". On the other side of the single wooden wall that John had built to make two separate rooms, surrounded by the metal exterior, was a "research room"; computer, files, notes. A room he could not let any persona into.

"All made from scratch, my dear. I appreciate your noticing." John faked a smile. "Now, why don't you tell me where that hard drive is? Or we're going to talk about your family."

For the first time since Meg had been captured, there was real emotion in her eyes. Anger, grief, guilt...perfect weak points for John to poke.

"H-Hitmen don't generally torture, you know. They find them, kill them, game over." Meg said, her body shuddering as she squeezed her eyes shut. Clearly blocking out unpleasant memories of her early life.

"I'm more of an advanced hitman, I guess. Let's go way back, shall we? Ah yes, your mother died... when you were, what, 7?"

"DO NOT talk about my family. I will rip you in half. I swear to God, I will destroy you." Meg snarled, struggling.

"Your daddy was always a little angry, wasn't he? But the brutal suicide of your mother, tsk tsk...that was the beginning." John said, keeping an impassive expression with a hint of taunting body gesture. "Your father beat you and you precious little sister over and over again."

"STOP IT! YOU STOP IT RIGHT NOW, YOU DICK! YOU SON OF A..." Meg's voice was filled with more pain than any other torture tool could cause. Her limbs, fingers and toes alike, twitched with anger. Fear.

"Your little sister was only 11 when you decided to go up against your father's wishes. The whole dysfunctional family teenager ghetto. Dyed your hair, got tattoos, drugs, underage sex. All of it. Then you went AWOL," John paused, letting a smirk appear on his face.

"NO! NO! I WON'T TELL YOU. YOU CAN'T MAKE ME!" Meg's head whipped from side to side, breathing heavily. "No...please...stop. Don't go there. Please."

"Tell me where the drive is, and it'll be over. Maybe, if you cooperate well, I'll let you live."

"No. I won't tell you." Meg hissed, stiffening her back. John knew he was reaching her breaking point. So many raw memories and emotions were running rampant through her head, it was only a matter of time before she snapped.

"Okay. Your choice." John nodded to her. "Your daddy was so angry at you, he took it on your sister. After hearing of her awful beatings...you arrived at the house to see your dead sister. Your sister died because of your actions. It was all your fault. You killed her."

"NOOOO! OKAY OKAY! I'll tell you. I'll tell you where it is." Meg finally said. Her voice was weak, her head tipped back to the ceiling. Tears were streaming down her face. "It's Lawrence. Lawrence, Kansas. I sold it to someone."

"What?" John's head jerked. "You're positive."

"DOES IT LOOK LIKE I'M JOKING AROUND?" Meg yelled angrily. "It's in Lawrence, Kansas. Now let me go, or just shoot me in the head."

"I'm going to do neither." John stated flatly. This little piece of information could very well destroy him. If other people knew this, more criminals or thugs, utter chaos could erupt in Lawrence. He couldn't have that.

He'd been told that some of the very resourceful criminals he'd worked for in the past was also looking for the hard drive. And people like them sent people like him; willing to do anything or kill anyone in order to finish the job.

"Then what? I gave what you wanted." Meg said weakly.

"Maybe. But if you're lying..."

"I'm NOT."

"I want to be sure." John growled at her.

"That's a 5 hour drive. You'll be looking for it for a few days at least. What about me? thought you wanted to keep me alive?"

"I have a guy who'll take care of you."

More fear. John somehow knew exactly what she was thinking. Were they going to rape me? Torture me? Is this other guy merciless compared to John Winchester?

John did not believe in rape. Nor did he like to torture hard core. He didn't take interrogation jobs often unless he knew he could get into their mind instead.

"I'd rather you kill me."

"I assure you, he's a decent guy. He might even treat your wounds, if you're actually nice to him."

Meg said nothing. John shrugged his duffel bag over his shoulder, cleaned up the supplies, and began to head to the stairs. Once at the top, right when he was about to slip through the door, his regret came.

"Better be careful, Johnny. That little family of yours might be caught in the crossfire if you dig too deep. You may not have to worry about me, but there's hundreds of people to worry about out there."

"What are you saying?" John demanded.

"Tread carefully."


End file.
